


Devil in Her Eyes

by DeskGirl



Series: RotG Undercover Noir AU [3]
Category: Guardians of Childhood & Related Fandoms, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Noir, Dancing, F/M, Making Out, Pole Dancing, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Undercover, Undercover AU, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 13:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15292680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeskGirl/pseuds/DeskGirl
Summary: Kozmotis isn't the only one who can play a part. When he goes to a strip club for a live intel drop from an unknown contact, he's in for a surprise.Undercover Noir AU: Kozmotis Pitchiner is an undercover DEA agent working with notorious serial killer Jack Frost to bring down a major drug ring.Part 3 of the Noir AU series inspired by KS_Claw





	Devil in Her Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KS_Claw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KS_Claw/gifts).



The club smelled strongly of beer, smoke, and sweat. Neon lights—purple, blue, red—glowed from spotlights overhead, casting vibrant hues down on circular stages while leaving the tables and chairs in shadow. The dancers on stage were painted in slashes of color that accentuated their limbs as they twisted around mounted dance poles.

Kozmotis felt as if he’d stepped through a portal into another world, some intruder in this strange place full of gyrating bodies and thumping music. He slipped off his jacket to buy himself a moment to look around. There was a staff door and an emergency exit in the back. A bar dominated the right side of the club with a sleek black counter and shelves of alcohol backlit in neon blue. The entire left wall was nothing but black curtain, parted in places to show teasing peaks of small rooms with private dance tables and seating.

Moving with purpose, Kozmotis made his way past the first two dance stages to the main event space at the back, and took a seat at a table with two chairs—both empty—and a VIP card propped against a full martini glass. There was a note beside the glass:

_To Mr. Black. Our warmest regards to your employer. Please enjoy this complementary drink and pass for one private dance. -Management_

Kozmotis laid his coat across the other chair, then picked up his drink and settled back. He pressed the glass to his lips now and then, but didn’t drink.

The music in the club shifted from the hard, energetic beat that had been playing to something more sultry. The neon-colored lights over the main stage dimmed, then were replaced by a bright white spotlight. From behind the curtain at the back, a delicate hand extended. The hand made coy gestures like it was beckoning the audience to lean in, and then in one fluid motion, the dancer stepped out from behind the curtain.

She was breathtaking. The lights created a halo effect around the black curls of her hair, and the gold body glitter that dusted her shoulders, breasts, and thighs twinkled like stars caught on her tan skin. Her makeup and lingerie were gold to match, making her look like a gilded statue—like Pygmalion’s sculpture come to life, cold and perfect. Her steps were fluid, each sway of her hips calculated, and she kept her dark eyes lifted over the heads of everyone in the club like they didn’t even exist.

Kozmotis felt his mouth go dry. Whoever was manning the music booth announced a special performance by “Golden Muse.” Kozmotis’s mind supplied a name he thought far more appropriate: Goddess.

The woman wrapped both hands around the pole at the end of the stage, hooked an ankle around the base, and began to dance. Her first movements were demure as she stretched and curved her back. She moved slowly and deliberately, each lift of a leg bringing her hips arcing towards the pole in a sensual display, each tilt of her head causing her hair to cascade over her shoulders tantalizingly.

The music picked up, and the dancer lifted herself up the pole. Kozmotis set his glass down on the table a little too hard as the dancer performed a split and then twisted her body around the pole effortlessly. He watched the muscles of her arms tense as she climbed towards the ceiling. Then she caught the pole in the hook of her leg, and stretched her body out into empty space, seemingly defying gravity. She spun, drifting down the pole as she changed from one pose to the next. She caught the pole with her hands, then slowly extended her legs out away from her. Kozmotis could see the flexing of her stomach muscles as she mimicked walking through the air.

Finally, the dancer’s feet touched the stage again. She let herself slide all the way down to her knees. She leaned back, the pole between her legs, her mouth parted slightly as if caught in a moment of pleasure. When she straightened up again, she looked directly at Kozmotis. He felt heat rise up inside him, burning hot, and his heart leapt in his throat.

The dancer shifted to her feet. She leaned her back against the pole, and let her hips sway and gyrate to the beat of the music. She reached up to run her hands through her hair, lifting the curls up then letting them pour back down over her. The entire time she kept her eyes on Kozmotis. She reached up over her head to grab the pole, and slid down until she was crouched, one hand sliding over her own stomach as she smiled at him.

The final chorus of the song began. The dancer straightened, twisted to catch the pole in both hands, and swung herself back up. She spun herself around the pole, faster now, legs spreading and spinning with an energy that hadn’t been there before. Her sultry teasing flared up into an intense energy as she put everything she had into the last few moments of her performance. Her hair fanned out around her, and sweat glistened over every inch of her body. Then her heels hit the stage sharply, and the song ended.

Kozmotis remembered to breathe. He sucked in a deep breath as the dancer bowed and the people in the club clapped and cheered. Dollar bills littered the stage. They hadn’t during the dance, as if the watchers had been afraid that moving would break the spell the dancer had been weaving.

Some patrons crowded the edge of the stage, waving bills to tuck into the dancer’s clothes, but they went ignored. The dancer was still watching Kozmotis. He dropped his shoulders and lifted his head as he remembered who he was supposed to be: Pitch Black, the calm but dangerous right hand to Sanderson M.

Kozmotis lifted a brow and tilted his head, gesturing wordlessly for the dancer to come over. He watched as her lips curled into a playful smile. She walked back up the stage, then descended the small set of stairs off to the right of the curtain. A few men held out appealing hands to her as she passed, but she headed straight for Kozmotis’s table.

Kozmotis leaned back as the dancer unabashedly settled across his lap. Her hands touched his shoulders, featherlight.

“Hello there, handsome,” she said. Her voice was like honey.

Kozmotis caught himself smiling. He let it twist into the smirk of a man who had nearly everything he wanted, and expected to have the rest very soon. “Am I allowed to touch?” he asked, his hands hovering over her hips.

“Hmm. Not yet. But maybe later if you behave for me. I noticed you looking at me.Were you hoping for something special?”

“Everyone in here was looking at you. It was impossible not to.”

“Yes, but not like you were.” The dancer ran a finger along Kozmotis’s jawline. “I noticed the card on your table. Very. Important. Person.” She said the words like she was laying kisses were her fingers were trailing. Kozmotis watched her mouth as gold lips formed each word with intent. “Want a little VIP treatment to go with that fancy card, baby?”

Kozmotis leaned back a little further to get a good look at the gorgeous woman in his lap. Her chest rose and fell sharply as she struggled to catch her breath still, though she did an admirable job covering it up. He let his gaze trail down her chest, past her navel, and across the thighs that felt like hot brands through the fabric of his pants.

He gave her an approving smirk. “I’ll happily take whatever you want to give me.”

The dancer stood in one smooth motion, and drew Kozmotis up with her by the collar of his shirt. He leaned back to grab his jacket hurriedly, then let her draw him across the room towards the wall of black curtains. The dancer paused a moment as she looked at the available rooms, then guided him to one at the very back.

Kozmotis slid into a seat that let him face the entrance at an angle so he could keep an eye on it. He watched as the dancer gave a quick wave to the bartender, then slid the curtain closed and tied it shut.

“So… we’re all alone then,” Kozmotis said. He tried to sound casual, but it came out awkward, and he grimaced inwardly at himself.

The dancer turned, and eyed him up as she slowly smiled. “We are. No one will interrupt us.”

Then she quickly crossed the small space, and clambered into Kozmotis’s lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a deep, desperate kiss. He gasped, and his hands found her waist as he kissed her back. Everywhere she touched him, it felt like he was being electrified. Teeth nipped at his bottom lip, and Kozmotis moaned, mouth falling open as the kiss deepened.

Finally, they broke away, and the dancer rested her forehead against Kozmotis’s.

“Ebony,” Kozmotis breathed. His hands slid up her sides, and he tilted his head to catch her in another kiss. She hummed sweetly against his lips, gentler with him the second time around as they let themselves relax and enjoy the moment.

When they pulled away again, Kozmotis smirked. “I’m pretty sure strippers and pole dancers aren’t allowed to kiss their customers.”

Ebony took Kozmotis’s face in her hands, and squished his cheeks. She laughed at the face he made. “What about kissing my fiancé? Is that allowed?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a crime if you don’t.”

“Sounds like I’m in trouble either way. Good thing I know some people in the police department who can put in a good word for me.” Ebony winked.

Kozmotis snorted. Ebony smiled wide.

“I missed you,” they both said at the same time. They looked surprised for a moment before they broke down laughing. Kozmotis hadn’t laughed in so long, he was almost shocked by the sound. Meanwhile Ebony’s giggles came quick and shallow as nerves bled into her voice. Kozmotis felt one of her hands drift up into his hair and tighten there. He laid his hands flat on her back to pull her in for another kiss.

“I have to say,” Kozmotis said, “you really surprised me. I’m not entirely sure I’m happy to see you here. You should have let one of the other officers pull this job.”

Ebony fixed him with that look that he loved and feared: the one that meant Ebony had planted her feet and had no intention of budging. “I was the best choice for this.”

“You’re a lieutenant, though.”

“Exactly. I spend so much time behind a desk, no one’s going to recognize me. Especially not like this.” She gestured down at herself. It certainly was amazing what a push-up bra and a lot of bare skin could do.

Speaking of which. “I assume you have those files I needed,” Kozmotis said. He looked at Ebony’s outfit dubiously. “Should I ask where you’re hiding them?”

Ebony scrunched her nose and smacked Kozmotis’s arm. Then she reached down to the left cup of her bra, and pulled at the seams. A few small, hidden snaps popped open, revealing a pocket sewn inside. Ebony reached in, and pulled out a thin, black data card like the sort found in cameras. She handed it to Kozmotis, then adjusted her clothing.

“This was the only thing small enough that I could hide it in my outfit,” Ebony explained. “Everything you requested is there. Just make sure to use a secure device.”

Kozmotis unhooked his belt, and opened up the hidden compartment in the buckle. He slipped the card inside, and redid his belt. Then his hands found their way back to Ebony’s waist. Kozmotis rubbed circles with his thumbs as he looked up at Ebony. “I can’t put into words how happy I am to see you, but are you sure you’ll be safe? What if someone sees you going into the police station and recognizes you?”

Ebony carded her fingers through Kozmotis’s hair. “I’ll be on leave until you finish your undercover op. That was the price of getting to come see you. I’m stuck in a little duplex they set me up in for the time being. On the plus side, if the DEA or the police department needs to get anything else to you, it’ll be easier: you just make a phone call to the club asking if I’ll be performing again any time soon. I have one of my officers here as a waitress. She’s listening in on the club’s calls, and she can sweep the private booths we use for bugs.”

Kozmotis wasn’t sure he liked the idea of Ebony putting herself in danger like this. But then again, if he didn’t want to be with someone who put themselves in danger, maybe he shouldn’t have gone and fallen in love with a cop.

Kozmotis sighed, then smirked at Ebony. “Okay. All right. So you play the dancer, and I play the lonely, enamored drug dealer who’s got his favorite he likes to watch.” His hands slid down Ebony’s stomach to the soft fabric of her panties. “Just don’t go giving anyone else private dances while I’m gone.”

“Only you—hey!” Ebony caught Kozmotis’s hands as he started to slide them down her thighs. She put his hands firmly back on her waist. “We’re not supposed to be getting handsy in here, so watch the glitter. In fact, hold on, I got my lipstick all over you.”

Ebony cast around for something to clean Kozmotis up with, but there were no towels or tissues, and she clearly didn’t have anything to use on her person. She reached over and undid Kozmotis’s tie, then dabbed at his mouth with the end of it. When she was satisfied, she took one of his hands and used the clean end of the tie to brush stray bits of glitter off his palm.

Kozmotis leaned back and let Ebony work, taking pleasure just in the touch of her hands on his. “What will people think when they see me walk in here with a tie and walk out without one?” he mused.

Ebony reached over to adjust his shirt collar thoughtfully, then undid the top button of his shirt. “They’ll think you’re a lucky man,” she said.

“I really am.”

Kozmotis must have let too much of his longing bleed into his voice, because he watched Ebony’s expression fall. The look on her face made him feel like his heart was being squeezed in a vice.

Ebony lifted Kozmotis’s hand, and pressed his palm to her cheek. “I’m so scared for you,” she said, her voice quiet. “I hate this. I know why you did it, but it just—something could happen to you, and I might not even know. I can’t stand waiting around and wondering if you’re okay.”

Kozmotis felt the quiver of Ebony’s jaw against his hand. He leaned in, and pressed his lips to her other cheek. He stayed there for a long moment, committing to memory the feeling of her skin against his and her smell and the brush of her hair against his face.

“I’m going to make it through this, and I’m going to come home to you. I promise.”

Ebony swallowed thickly. “You’re going to make me cry and ruin my makeup.”

“I already ruined your makeup,” Kozmotis tried to tease, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

Ebony leaned back reluctantly. For a moment Kozmotis had forgotten where he was. The entire world consisted only of Ebony’s arms around his neck and her legs straddling his hips, whispering promises of home. But now the spell was broken, and he could hear the thump of dance music, and neon light flickered under the edge of the black curtain cutting them off from the club, intruding on their private moment.

Ebony trailed her hands over the sides of Kozmotis’s face and down his neck, then squeezed his shoulders. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kozmotis said, surprised that he hadn’t told her sooner. That he hadn’t said it the moment they were alone, over and over, and never stopped.

Ebony smiled at him, her lips still gold-gilded, but bare in spots where she’d worn the color thin from kissing him. The corner of her bottom lip was smeared. Her cheeks were flushed dark. She looked ravished and devious and beautiful.

Ebony stood before Kozmotis could pull her back in and kiss the rest of the gold away.

“You leave first. Then I’ll head to the back to fix myself up,” she instructed.

Kozmotis stood, and grabbed his jacket. Ebony reached up to run her fingers through his hair one last time, brushing it back into place as best she could. She mouthed the words: show time.

Ebony pulled the curtain aside just enough for Kozmotis to slip out. “It was a pleasure to have you here, Mr. Black,” Ebony said, her voice layered with innuendo as she slipped into her role. “We hope you’ll come back soon.”

Kozmotis turned on his heel to look back, and raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“ _I_ hope you’ll come back soon,” Ebony corrected.

“Then how can I stay away?”

Kozmotis lingered for perhaps a moment too long before finally turning and heading for the door of the club. He stepped out onto a dark, cool street, the air damp with the promise of rain. The chill air made his skin prickle where Ebony’s warm hands had been, and he shrugged his coat back on with a sigh.

**Author's Note:**

> For readers, a brief explanation: Ebony is KS's version of Lady Pitchiner from the Guardians of Childhood series, which she often roleplays on Tumblr: [here's the blog](http://askladypitchiner.tumblr.com/).
> 
> In the Noir AU, Ebony is a police lieutenant for a department that is working in conjunction with the DEA to bring down the Man in the Moon and his drug ring. Kozmotis proposed to Ebony either shortly before being assigned to the undercover job, or proposed to her when he found out about it so they'd have something to look forward to when it was all over. Since then they've both been struggling with solitude and uncertainty, so when the live drop request crossed her desk, Ebony jumped at the chance to see Kozmotis.
> 
> Also, I want everyone to picture for a moment the police department paying for one of their lieutenants to take pole dancing lessons.
> 
> As a note: If I write more of this and of Ebony, I absolutely will not fridge her, that's a promise. There will be no Top Gun "After this we're getting married" tragic deaths. So rein those angst bunnies in, KS. And happy birthday!


End file.
